


Four Times Peggy Carter Came Home a Mess and One Time Daniel Sousa Did, Too

by spatialvoid



Category: Agent Carter (TV)
Genre: 5 Times, Domestic Fluff, F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Hurt/Comfort, In Case You Couldn't Tell It's Pretty Much Pure Fluff, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, alternating pov
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-30
Updated: 2016-05-30
Packaged: 2018-07-11 01:36:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,457
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7020160
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spatialvoid/pseuds/spatialvoid
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Does exactly what it says on the tin.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Four Times Peggy Carter Came Home a Mess and One Time Daniel Sousa Did, Too

**I. December 1947, Los Angeles, California**

“Peggy, honey,” Daniel’s voice is tense, careful, “it’s _Christmas_.”

She rolls her eyes as she squeezes her dripping hair with the towel he’s just handed her, water falling all over the braided rug his grandmother had made. “Oh, really? I hadn’t noticed.”

The sarcastic note to her tone is not lost on him. “It was _Rose’s_ idea,” he insists.

“Oh, _Rose_ , was it?” Her eyes are mirthful. “I’m gone for two weeks and _Rose_ takes over, hm?”

He puts his hands up. “I came home from the office one day to find her waiting here with all -” he gestures to the garish holiday décor that surrounds them “- this -”

She purses her lips, containing a smile. “And you just couldn’t say no.”

“Peg.” Daniel looks at her. “It’s _Rose._ ”

Peggy rolls her eyes.

“She _insisted_ ,” he pleads. “ _And_ -” he pauses, seemingly contemplating something “- she did all the heavy lifting.”

Her eyes rest on the rather large (and decidedly hideous) ceramic angel that sits on the mantelpiece. “I can see that.” She gestures to the window, strings of lights twinkling just outside.  “Did she climb up and put all those lights up on the eaves, as well?”

“No, she, uh,” Daniel looks embarrassed, though she can’t imagine why, “she enlisted Dr. Samberly to help with that.”

She briefly attempts to keep her expression neutral, but the image of Daniel standing helplessly while Rose and Dr. Samberly bedecked his house with all sorts of garishly festive decorations sends her into painful peals of laughter, hand clutching at her bruised ribs as she wheezes.

When she catches her breath and tries to glare at him, he’s grinning. “You know, Peg,” he chuckles, “I think _that’s_ why she did it."

**II. January 1953, Washington, District of Columbia**

“Peg,” Daniel says, “you need to be more -”

“Careful, yes, so you’ve told me.” Peggy purses her lips, unsettled by his distressed tone. “I’m quite aware, Daniel.”

“Then _be_ careful.”

“Daniel, love, I _was_ being careful.” She crosses her arms. “Truly.”

He gathers her into his arms and presses a kiss to her hair. “I know. I just worry. Especially -” he pauses “- with the kids.”

It’s the sort of remark that would irritate her on some days, but tonight she just tucks her face into the curve of his neck and closes her eyes. “How are they?”

“Wearing the Jarvises out, I’m sure.” He chuckles. “They were almost worryingly excited about seeing Howard.”

Peggy smiles, thinking of Emma’s affinity for watching Howard work in his lab. He’ll make a scientist out of her yet. “I’m sure.” She pauses, wriggling out of his grasp. “Fix me up before they get back?”

He gets up, returns in just a moment with the first-aid kit. “So, what’d you get into this time?”

She sighs and sets to work unbuttoning her practically shredded blouse. “Dottie Underwood has begun to lack finesse with a knife.”

She slips her blouse from her shoulders and turns so her back is facing him. She can hear him wince as he carefully runs a finger over the deep, hastily stitched slashes. “How bad does it hurt?”

She grits her teeth. “It’s not… pleasant.”

“I figured as much,” he replies, inspecting Dottie’s handiwork. “I don’t think Thompson’s mother ever taught him how to sew, either.”

She lets out a strained chuckle. “I’m not sure Jack Thompson’s mother taught him much of anything.”

“Fair point.”

She hisses when he dabs at one of the slashes with a cotton ball soaked in alcohol.

“Sorry.”

She wishes he wouldn’t apologize for things outside of his control. “It’s not your fault, Daniel.”

“Well,” he says, “still.”

**III. June 1956, Alexandria, Virginia**

“What happened to you?”

Emma reaches out to grab his arm with a mud-caked hand. “Mummy took us swimming in the _river_.”

This is clearly evidenced by the fact that Emma is _covered_ , head-to-toe, in thick black mud. He pulls his arm away before she can smear it all over his shirt. “I can see that. Where’s Mum and Michael?”

Emma turns around and motions towards the riverfront. “They’re comin’,” she says. “See?”

Sure enough, he spies a distant figure striding towards them from the pier. “What’s taking ‘em so long, Em?”

She giggles. “I got stuck.”

Peggy’s close now, close enough for Daniel to see that she, too, is covered head to toe in silt, Michael slung on her hip, equally untidy. He looks at Emma. “Just you?”

“Oh, Mummy got stuck, too,” she replies, tugging on his arm and leaving a perfect muddy handprint on his shirtsleeve.

Peggy pushes the door to the screened-in porch open with her elbow and sets Michael down with a huff. “I swear to God, Daniel, _your children_ -”

“ _My_ children?” He smirks. “ _You’re_ the one that took them swimming in the Potomac.”

She rolls her eyes. “ _Your_ children decided to dive after the crabs, Daniel, to see if they could catch one _‘for science’_ , and ended up waist deep in this -” she shivers in disgust “- murky disaster. _I_ had to go after them.”

Daniel laughs and picks Michael up, tousling his hair affectionately. “Let’s get you cleaned up, buddy.” He presses a kiss to Peggy’s mud-caked hair. “You, too.”

**IV. August 1967, Washington, District of Columbia**

“You’re back.” Daniel’s voice holds a note of surprise. “Stark called me last week, personally, to say that it could be anywhere from three days to three months.”

She knows there’s blood in her hair, and she probably looks like she hasn’t slept in a week (she hasn’t), but she’s home. “I did promise.”

“I didn’t tell Emma what Howard said,” he murmurs, and she sits down next to him on the sofa and curls into his side. “I hoped you’d be back in time.”

“It’s hard to believe,” she says softly, stifling a yawn, “Emma, off to university.”

“And Harvard, no less.”

She gives him a warm smile. “She _is_ your daughter.”

He presses a kiss to her hair. “She’s all you, Peg.”

Peggy tugs on one of his ears affectionately. “I beg to differ. She at least got these, poor girl.”

“You love my ears.”

She hums in agreement. “But you’re very clever, my love, and I think it’s rather rubbed off on our children.”

Just then, Emma flies into the den, nearly knocking over a lamp in her rush. “Dad, have you seen – Mum! You’re back!”

She throws herself at Peggy and then notices the blood in her hair, drawing back. “You’re hurt.”

Peggy pulls her back down onto the sofa and wraps an arm around her. “Not badly, dear, come here.” She presses her lips to her daughter’s hair. “I missed you.”

Emma’s cheek rests on her shoulder for a moment. “Missed you, too.”

Peggy glances around the room and then rests her eyes on Daniel. “Where’s Michael?”

“Baseball practice,” Daniel says. “He’ll be glad you’re back.”

“Mm,” Peggy replies, pressing a kiss to his lips, “ _I’m_ glad I’m back.”

He smiles. “So am I.”

**\+ I. May 1949, Los Angeles, California**

“Before you say anything,” Daniel begins, noting how she’s eyeing him suspiciously, “it’s definitely Howard’s fault.”

“I expected nothing less, darling,” Peggy murmurs, beckoning him over to where she sits on the couch. “Nearly everything is.” She runs her fingers over the goose egg protruding from his forehead. “I’ll just go get some ice, my love, I’ll be right back.”

He watches motionlessly as she rises from the couch and moves towards the kitchen, back obviously aching. He doesn’t say anything until she’s sitting next to him again, gently pressing a bag of ice wrapped in a towel to his forehead. “You feeling all right?”

“Mm,” she says, her free hand resting on the six-month swell of her stomach, “as well as can be expected under the circumstances.”

He rests his hand on top of hers, and his voice is soft when he speaks. “Think it’s a girl or a boy?”

“Rose thinks it’s a girl,” she says quietly, “but I don’t know that I’m particularly inclined to think one way or the other.”

A girl. He thinks about chasing around a tiny Peggy, a miniature force to be reckoned with. “I’d like a girl.”

Her lips curl into a smile. “And what if it’s a boy?”

He thinks about what he was like as a kid, all non-stop motion and baseball games and books snuck under the covers at night. “I’d like a boy.”

She turns her hand over and gives his a squeeze. “We’re on the same page, then, hm?”

He hums in agreement.

She lifts the ice from his forehead and runs her fingers cautiously over the lump. “The swelling’s beginning to subside.” She strokes his hair. “You’ll be all right.”

**Author's Note:**

> You can find me on Tumblr at [peg-carter](http://peg-carter.tumblr.com/).


End file.
